


Ineffable Holidays AUmens

by dontlikehugs18



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Skating, Author is bad at flirting, Aziraphale is bad at flirting, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), First Meetings, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), all the alternate universes, ineffable holiday 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27856804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontlikehugs18/pseuds/dontlikehugs18
Summary: What it says on the tin, friends. Let's take some holiday themes from Caedmon's Ineffable Holiday 2020 list and make it all AUs.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8
Collections: Ineffable Holiday 2020





	1. Ice skating

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Thanks for stopping by on this 31 (ish) day adventure. I'm already a couple days behind, but I have plans. Each chapter is it's own stand alone AU one-shot. Drop a kudo or a comment or a follow if you like! <3

“This will never work,” Crowley groaned to himself as he watched his former enemy competitor glide through his warm up routine. It was clear the knee injury that had benched Aziraphale for the previous Olympic trials wasn’t affecting him now as he executed a series of smooth turns and spins on the far side of the rink. With a sigh, Crowley began lacing his custom matte black skates and bracing himself for a conversation of meaningless pleasantries. He’d seen the interviews. Zira was practically sunshine in spandex any time there was a camera in his face, beaming into the lens, just ever-so-delighted to talk to the reporters. He was an absolute media darling and fans went into mourning when he needed surgery and couldn’t make his grand Olympic career. But two years is a long time in the skating world and Aziraphale’s comeback wasn’t making the bounce his career needed.

For Crowley, on the other hand, this was his last shot. His solo career was suffering and he’d barely scraped through the Olympic trials previously and hadn’t even come close to getting a medal. He’d had some modest success on a national level, but that was faltering in the wake of a series of bad press. Apparently having a small temper tantrum on live television over fucking up what should’ve been a well-oiled routine was frowned upon. His manager, Beez, had given him the telling off of a lifetime. With his name in the skating world blackened and his scores not what they once were, Beez had cooked up this plan with the ultimatum: make this work or you’re done skating. 

“A men’s pair routine. How the Heaven are we going to pull this off? And with Mr. Sunshine, media darling, of all people. Urgh.” Crowley grumbled and grumped all the way onto the ice and through a few basic stretches. The swoosh of ice gliding under his blades and the cold air of the rink breezing past his face always lifted his spirits though, and soon he lost himself in the pull of his muscles and the stretch of his limbs. 

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Aziraphale keeping pace and matching his warm up move for move. So it’s like that eh? With a smirk, Crowley shot off to the other end of the rink with Aziraphale a silent shadow on his heels. He pulled off a series of jumps and came to a hard stop, just to see what his new skating partner would do. You want to keep pace with me, let’s see what you can do.

A look of trepidation stole over Aziraphale’s face as he glided to a stop and he gave his knee a subtle stretch. He met Crowley’s eye for the first time, who let a mocking grin slide over his mouth, before giving himself a subtle shake and a small nod. Crowley watched as Aziraphale skated to the far end of the rink again to give himself space and then rocketed forward before matching Crowley’s jumps exactly and adding a little flourishing spin when he landed. 

“Well, my dear,” said the blond skater, slightly breathless, “that was quite the warm up. Shall we begin a mock up of the routine or would you like to practice more?” Crowley stared into that beaming, camera ready smile, and felt a well of irritation rise up. 

“Practice? Routine? You actually think this is going to work? You with...w-with me?! I mean, look at us. Absolute opposites.” He flailingly gestured to Aziraphale’s tartan patterned warm up outfit and stark white skates. “And we’re practically ancient and you don’t look like you could lift your own gym bag let alone another skater. Face it, we’re fucked. Doomed. Over before we started.” Crowley was all dramatic arms and hand gestures at this point in his rant, so he missed the steely determination that flashed in his new partner’s eyes.

“I mean, no offense or anything, but- ngk!” With no warning at all, Crowley was being hoisted in the air and balanced perfectly in a secure hold. His point made, Aziraphale gently lowered Crowley back to the ice, leaving a gentle hand on his elbow to make sure he didn’t fall. 

“Now that that’s settled, dear boy, I believe we have a routine to plan out. We’re in this arrangement together and our careers need the boost. It won’t do at all to skate into this unprepared. I have standards after all. And you’d best meet them.” The affable, glowing features that Crowley was so used to had been replaced by a stern frown. For a moment he quailed under that expression, then burst out laughing instead. 

“You’re a bit of a bastard aren’t you?” Crowley doubled over, hugging his sides and absolutely cackling with laughter. 

“I beg your pardon!” Aziraphale gasped, trying and failing to hide a tiny smile. 

“Oh you are! This is fantastic.” Crowley wiped his eyes as his laughter subsided. “This is going to go just perfectly. Now, I was thinking for our routine, what about Bicycle Race by Queen?”

“What by who?” Aziraphale looked completely poleaxed by the change in conversation and his partner.

“You know ‘You say coke, I say 'caine. You say John, I say Wayne. Hot dog, I say cool it man.  
I don't wanna be the President of America.’ Surely you’ve heard it?” Crowley grinned, skating a slow circle around Aziraphale. 

“I’m not skating to anything referencing drug usage and the rest of that made no sense. I don’t even know what it means,” Aziraphale huffed and began a slow glide around the rink.

“Nobody knows what it means, angel, but it gets the people going.”

The two skated off together chatting, laughing, and plotting the choreography that would herald their return to the top of the skating world.


	2. Cocoa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Coffee Shop AU time! Poor barista Ezra doesn't know how to handle being flirted with on the job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honest to Someone, we had hot chocolate as a family tonight. I don't care if it's been almost 80° (that's about 27° to all you non Americans) all week I'm drinking hot chocolate!

The Fuzzy Duck Cafe was unusually busy at two in the afternoon, but it was the first cold snap of the season. The slightly brisk wind stirred up the spirits of fall lovers everywhere, who stood in line, sweating in their still unseasonably warm clothing, awaiting their first sip of autumnal beverages. The fact that The Fuzzy Duck didn't swap over to their actual fall menu for another two weeks didn't deter an endless parade of scarved, hatted, sweatered, and booted people from asking for anything pumpkin spice. Ezra had had to talk down every single one while keeping a cheerful smile on his face. He never knew when his boss, Gabe, was checking the cameras after all. Better to grit his teeth in an approximation of a grin and smother his exasperation with false kindness than to earn (another) write up.

The herd of autumn worshipping customers thinned only for Ezra's least favorite type of customer to take his place at the counter. He was a flash one, for sure, bright red hair, wearing all black with sunglasses, indoors for goodness sake. But more than all of that, he was on his phone. Eyes completely glued to the screen, body turned toward the glow of the backlight, nose almost touching the glass, thumb seemingly magnetically attached to the screen. On. His. Phone. Ezra took a deep soothing breath, pasted on a customer service smile, blinked back the deadness of his eyes, and began his usual patter.

"Good afternoon. Welcome to The Fuzzy Duck. What can I get started for you?" 

Without turning his whole body toward Ezra, eyes locked on the screen entirely, the customer gave a small, one shoulder shrug. "Dunno. What's good here?"

Oh...oh Lord give him strength. The customer service smile stretched a little further and threatened to crack. 

"Well, I think almost anything here is scrummy." Phone Man's head snapped up at that and Ezra could see him mouth the word "scrummy" with bemusement. At least he was off his phone now. Ezra allowed himself to relax just a bit. “Are you a tea or coffee person? We have a wide menu for both and I’d be happy to recommend something.” 

Phone Man was now wholly focused on Ezra and he couldn’t be sure due to the sunglasses, but it almost felt like he was being given a slow once over. The salacious smirk directed his way seemed to confirm it. Ezra wasn’t used to this kind of attention and was immediately off balance.

“You know...I think you should surprise me, angel.” Phone Man leaned forward and shot him a glance over the top of the glasses and Ezra felt the tips of his ears go red as he met golden brown eyes. The moment stretched between them, Phone Man still smirking and Ezra going pinker by the second, until a chime over the door reminded Ezra he was at work. 

“What’s your name?” His voice was slightly breathless and squeakier than he’d ever heard it. Customer service voice, Ezra. He’s a customer. He cleared his throat. “I mean, can I have a name for this order?” 

“Mmmmm, AJ.” Phone Man, now AJ, still hadn’t leaned away or pushed his glasses back up and Ezra felt himself getting more flustered as he punched in the order. He shook himself before telling AJ the total and his hands almost didn’t shake when he handed over the receipt. 

“Well, AJ, I hope you enjoy your surprise,” he offered as the man moved away. 

“If it’s made by you angel, I’m sure it’ll be heavenly.” Letting his eyes rake over Ezra one more time, he sauntered off to the end of the counter to wait on his drink. 

Rattled by the encounter, Ezra took a step back and beckoned Anathema, his coworker, to switch places and let him take over drink making for a bit to collect himself. Losing himself in the rhythm of foaming milk and pouring coffee, he can almost forget about AJ. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he can see AJ has pulled out his phone again and seems absorbed in it. 

AJ's ticket is next and Ezra has a moment to choose how this goes. Does he slap together the small black coffee he rung up or does he truly surprise the man? Making up his mind Ezra sets to work creating a foaming, frothy concoction of almost pure sugar, but with the tiniest savory bite. 

"Order for AJ," Ezra calls, delicately placing the drink on the counter, studiously ignoring the fact that AJ is Right. There. Ezra lingers for a moment and allows their fingers to brush has he hands over the cup, ducking his head with the tiniest blush. 

Ezra pretends to wipe down the counter (if you've got time to lean he can hear Gabe start and he'd probably count surreptitious flirting as "leaning") while watching AJ take a sip. His mouth drops open and his eyebrows go up, his entire expressive face awash in delighted surprise. 

"That's not black coffee. I thought it was just gonna be black coffee. What is that?" 

"It's cocoa. Usually it's what I make myself on breaks. But you asked for a surprise and, well, I thought, I thought this would be a nice one," Ezra trails off, uncertain of how to continue. 

"Well it definitely is that." AJ's whole face is taken over by a wide grin. "What'd I say? That it'd be heavenly if you made it. And this is definitely that, angel." 

Ezra can feel the pink sweeping over his cheeks and his whole head goes blank. Flirting has never come easily and the fact that he's at work only throws him off more. Before he can think of something to say, AJ is breaking the silence. 

"Right. Thanks for the delicious surprise, angel. I'll see you around." He offers a jaunty little wave as he saunters away, pausing for a moment to drop a tip in the jar, before making his way out the door. 

Ezra's heart sinks for a moment before he gives himself a stern talking to. He was a customer. That's all. You don't even know him. You probably don't even like him. Come on, buck up. 

Anathema is waving him over to the register again with a smile barely contained. He sighs, bracing himself for the inevitable teasing. 

"Seems you earned yourself quite a tip, Ezra," she says, pressing what appears to be a napkin in his hand.

Unfolding it, there's a number written in hastily scrawled blank ink with "give me a call, Angel -AJ Crowley" scratched underneath. 

Ezra pockets the note, practically glowing, and thanks his lucky stars for cocoa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick shout out to the actual Fuzzy Duck Cafe which introduced 13 year old me to chocolate covered espresso beans. No idea if it's still there, but it'll always hold a special place in my caffeine addicted heart.


	3. Candy Canes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The line to see Santa in a department store Christmas Land is long. People and children are frustrated. Spangle the Christmas elf gets bored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did my annual listening of David Sedaris' Santaland Diaries just for this. Give it a listen if you find yourself slightly jaded with humanity this holiday season.

"Step on the magic star and you can see Santa." There was the usual apathetic ooh-ing and ahhhh-ing from adults and some delighted gasps from the children. _It's a two way mirror for Someone's sake. You could get arrested and experience the same thing. Course, nobody'd ooh and ahh over that._ Spangle was bored. Transcendentally bored. They liked kids and evei, but it was the routine and the rules and the fake cheer of being a department store Christmas elf day in and day out that was slowly killing Spangle's soul. Bringing the magic of Christmas to kids was all well and good, but there was no room for creativity or imagination. And the parents, don't even get them started on the parents. But Spangle needed this job, so they put on their red velvet smock, complete with glitter and jangly bells, and dealt with it. 

"Step on the magic star and you can see Santa." There was also Twinkle, whose real name was Angelica. Twinkle had been in the same Elf Orientation and the two had hit it off on day one. At least Spangle thought they had. Twinkle always referred to them as "my dear" and said things like "I'd follow you to Santa's house any day." Twinkle also did things like pretending to pull coins out of children's ears while they stood in line, bored, on the verge of a tantrum. Usually that sort of thing made Spangle cringe, but something about the joy on Twinkle's face and the answering amazement on the children's face was adorable. Spangle and Twinkle didn't always end up working the same area, but when they did, the Christmas Elf merriment wasn't so forced. 

Twinkle wasn't working this area with Spangle today though…And the boredom was real. 

"Step on the magic star and you can see Freddie Mercury." That got people's attention. And in fairness, Freddie was much more interesting than Santa. "Step on the magic star and you can see Betty White." People started hopping barriers and suddenly the magic star was much more interesting. Spangle grinned. "Step on the magic star and you can see Oprah." There was almost, but not quite, pandemonium. 

"Hey! That's not Oprah!" Uh-oh. Spangle hadn't quite thought this through. _Well what did they expect really? Was Oprah actually going to volunteer to stand behind a mirror at a department store?_ The crowd of angry, frustrated adults surrounding them seemed to think so and Spangle began to think they were in real trouble. 

Across Christmas Land, past a sea of gumdrops and lollipops, in the thick of the Candy Cane maze, Twinkle heard the low rumble of Frustrated-Tired-Pissed Off-Adults. There was usually a low grade miasma of irritation in Christmas Land as people waited literal hours to see Santa, despite all the forced cheer from the workers and the over-stimulated enthusiasm of the children, but this was a rising tide and didn't bode well. Looking up, after fumbling a coin trick for an unimpressed six year old, Twinkle sighed when she realized that it was coming from the magic star...where Spangle was stationed. 

"Oh Spangle, what have you done now?" she sighed to herself and quietly slipped away from her position. 

Making her way through the towering candy canes and around the fiberglass gum drops, she found the knot of chaos and sure enough, Spangle was at the center. A red faced lady had her finger pointed in Spangle's face, clearly beside herself. Spangle slouched with an air of nonchalance and a bored look on their face, but Twinkle could see the way their shoulders had tensed and their eyes were darting side to side looking for an escape route. 

"I'm going to have you fired, you hear me. I'm going to have you fired for this." The angry lady was giving Spangle her best threatening sneer. 

Spangle shrugged. "Lady, I wear a red velvet smock and tights for work. Be my guest." Twinkle felt it would be prudent to step in before the situation escalated. 

"I hope there's no trouble in Christmas Land. Santa is always watching after all and I'd hate for anyone to end up on the naughty list." Twinkle gave a wide eyed look of faux dismay for the benefit of the surrounding children before fixing a steely gaze on Spangle and the lady. 

"Twinkle, hi!" Spangle gave a small smile and wave. "What brings you to the magic star?"

"As if you don't know, you troublesome elf." Twinkle had to stifle a smile at the wide eyed look of feigned innocence on Spangle's face. They were absolutely incorrigible. She turned to the woman instead. "I do hope Spangle hadn't caused too much trouble ma'am. I'll put in a word with Santa himself about this and it'll be tickety-boo. Right as rain."

The lady wasn't assuaged. "That elf said Oprah was here, but it's just Santa."

Twinkle looked over her shoulder at Spangle, who was grinning madly and unapologetically, and rolled her eyes. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "And you believed them? This is Christmas Land. Why on earth would Oprah be here?"

"To be fair Twinkle, I also said Freddie Mercury and Betty White were here as well," Spangle added.

"Not. Helping. Spangle," she muttered through gritted teeth. 

"I really don't understand what the fuss is. It's Christmas Land and a two way mirror, of course it's only ever going to be Santa behind it. Not my fault if other people get carried away believing what they want. It was their choice to jump the line and be disappointed." A few of the children nearby looked shocked that the magic star wasn't actually magic. 

"Be that as it may, my dear, you can't go around saying that this is anything other than a way to see Santa. Just Santa." Twinkle had forgotten about the knot of irritated customers, caught up in a ridiculous argument with Spangle as she was. This was a familiar pattern even after knowing each such a short time. Spangle would gently provoke her, she would get more wound up, Spangle would poke some more, and it would only end whenl she snapped at them or laughed, usually both. 

"It's all smoke and mirrors. Literally, Twinkle. I just bent the truth a little more than I already was." Spangle's persuasive "reasoning" was undercut by the trademark smirk and slouch they were still pulling off. 

"Just because it's all fake here doesn't give you the right to add outlandish claims on top of it." Twinkle registered the silence around her as she watched Spangle's eyes widened in horror. She replayed the words in her head. "Oh fuck."

"It's...fake?? Mumma, is it really fake?"

"Dad, that elf said it's fake? Is Santa even real Dad?"

The frantic questions were shortly followed by wailing as one by one the children nearest the magic window had their Christmas beliefs shattered. 

"Now you've done it Twinkle," Spangle muttered on her left. 

That's how the two of them found themselves relegated to Candy Island, each armed with a three foot tall blow up candy cane, and very specific instructions not to interact with any customers in any way. They were to dance and be merry to recycled Christmas themed pop songs for the rest of their shifts. 

"Did you do this just so we'd have an assignment together?" Twinkle asked, twirling her candy cane much like a sign waver on a street corner.

"Nah. Unexpected perk, really. Look, we're on our own island and don't have to do bugger all the rest of our shifts. I'd say it all worked out well in the end." Spangle wasn't so much dancing as awkwardly flailing with their candy cane in a facsimile of disco. 

"Yes, I suppose it rather did," Twinkle agreed, allowing herself to be pulled into a twirl. The two smiled at each other, happy to work in Christmas Land exile as long as they were working together.


	4. Snow Globe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A soft drabble featuring the Husbands in their South Downs cottage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it's not really an AU. This is what popped in my head this morning, so it's what gets written.

They collect snow globes. Well, more accurately Aziraphale collects the snow globes that Crowley gifts him. He expressed a fascination for them when they were first invented and that's all it took. 

The collection of globes is scattered about the bookshelves in the front room of their cottage. Each a tiny, delicately designed and painted scene. Each one a touchstone for a memory. Each one a subtle reminder of years of care and love that dare not speak its name. 

They glint in the flickering firelight on these cold winter evenings and catch Aziraphale's attention from his perch on the couch. They allow him to sink into memory, to look back at his long life with the demon beside him. Give him a chance to reminisce, to ask what if, and to appreciate what he so gladly has now. 

He'll point to one and ask, "Oh darling, remember…?"

And as always Crowley answers, "Of course, Angel." 

And the two of them will curl closer as they drop into shared memories, a bottle of wine between them, warmed by the fire, and secure in their life together now.


End file.
